


Strings attatched

by Flavortext



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Other, PWP, its so hot here i wanted to write about the snow, sorry if the meanings are off its been ages since I pulled out my deck, theres very little mention of snow here its just sex and tarot cards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: “Knight, seven, ace. All cups.” He flipped the cards around to show the pictures. Fjord shrugged.“I have no idea what that means.” That made Molly chuckle. The man put the cards down beside him and met Fjord’s eyes.“Knight of cups has to do with romance, charming and courting and that kind of stuff..."





	Strings attatched

Fjord didn’t mind sharing a room with Molly. He really didn’t, they rotated who got the bed, and Molly knew when to shut up after a long day and just let Fjord sleep. And he didn’t make a fuss if Fjord woke up from a bad dream or spewing salt water, he just came and sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed circles along his spine until he could breathe again. 

There were nights when they would sit side by side on the bed and talk. Molly would whine about the group dynamics, Fjord would offer tidbits of insight on what they could do to ease tensions. Or Molly would share circus stories, never expecting Fjord to share back, never pressuring him, but leaving the door open. Fjord wasn’t sure he was ready for that, but he shared general stuff. There had been a shipwreck, he’d been a sailor since his teens, his powers came after the wreck, recently. Molly listened with a soft smile, nodding along, then continued on his own stories. 

Molly talked with his hands. He would sometimes move to sit in front of Fjord, their knees touching, just so his wild gestures could properly be seen (and so he didn’t elbow Fjord in the face, as had happened once before). His jewelry would jingle, he didn’t take it off until right before he slept, and his tail swished against the sheets excitedly. Fjord listened and smiled. He was growing fond despite himself, of Mollymauk and the rest of the group. They worked well together in battle, the coin flow was fairly stable, and the company wasn’t unwelcome, he was used to a tight knit crew, and this was starting to resemble that. 

 

Fjord returned to the inn after stopping by the local small magic shop with Caleb for health potions, to find Molly sprawled on the bed, cards laid out in front of him. He waved a hand in acknowledgment at Fjord, eyes not leaving the spread in front of him. As Fjord approached he swept it up, as though he didn’t want him to see what the cards were, not that they would mean anything to him. Fjord shrugged and deposited his coat (it was growing uncomfortably cold even during the days now, and snow had started to fall yesterday as they arrived in town), and took a chair in the corner of the room, sitting backwards in it so he could lean against the back and watch Molly. The tiefling squinted at him curiously but shuffled his deck without question, closing his eyes for a moment before drawing a pair of cards. He stared at them, tail flicking, then hummed softly and drew a third, placing it just above the two. His tail snapped against the sheets. 

“It’s rare to get three of the same suit in one reading.” Molly mused, taking the cards and sitting up, facing them out to look at them again. 

“What cards?” Fjord asked, curious as he watched Molly worry his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d seen Molly nervous before, before big fights when he thought their plans wouldn’t work, but this looked different, like he was psyching himself up for something. He took a moment to respond. 

“Knight, seven, ace. All cups.” He flipped the cards around to show the pictures. Fjord shrugged. 

“I have no idea what that means.” That made Molly chuckle. The man put the cards down beside him and met Fjord’s eyes. 

“Knight of cups has to do with romance, charming and courting and that kind of stuff. I wasn’t really doing a reading for a particular question, just bored, so that surprised me.” Molly shuffled the card back into his deck. “Seven of cups I draw a lot, and makes sense with the knight. It’s all about imagination and wishful thinking, daydreaming if you will.” Molly put that one back to and studied the last one. “I’ve drawnthe ace of cups twice today. Earlier reversed, just now upright.” Fjord had a general idea of what that meant, Molly had explained readings to him before. “It’s also about creativity, overwhelming emotions, compassion, sometimes love. With the other’s I’d read it as more  _ potential _ , like the budding of a new relationship.” Molly grinned up at Fjord. 

“Any idea who it’s about?” Fjord couldn’t help but smile back. He was pretty sure Molly’s card stuff was bullshit, but coincidences were coincidences, and he wouldn’t lie to himself and say he hadn’t thought about Molly in  _ that _ way, it was hard to when someone you shared a room with every night had such little concept of personal space, and was charming if airy, and handsome as all hell. Molly hummed again and looked away from Fjord, wrapping his deck up and placing it in the pocket of his coat that hung off the foot of the bed. 

“There might be a lucky guy.” Molly shrugged. Fjord’s heart stuttered but he forced a smile again. 

“We’ve been in town a day and you’re already making the rounds. You should go get him, we’ll only be here through the week.” Fjord nodded towards the door. Molly did that thing with his lip again, and didn’t move. 

“I suppose I could. I wouldn’t have to go far.” Molly says slowly, like he’s choosing his words. That makes Fjord frown slightly. It could be Caleb, he wouldn’t be surprised, he and Molly seemed to get along most of the time, and he wasn’t bad looking when he cleaned up. Fjord wouldn’t mind that. He didn’t mind who Molly slept with as long as the group stayed together. The feeling in his chest was just from the cold. Fjord broke his train of thought and reached over to make sure the window was latched closed. It was, but he drew the heavy curtain a little more closed, feeling a draft from the edges where the glass wasn’t perfectly flush. When he turned back Molly was standing. 

“Should I vacate the room?” Fjord forced a joking tilt to his voice. He could go to the girls room, suffer through another game of truth or dare. He didn’t really mind, though Jester’s Oskar jokes wore on him a little. 

“No, that won’t be needed.” Molly stretched his neck out and took a deep breath. “I mean, you can go where you want. I’m not gonna make you do anything. Just putting it on the table.” Fjord tilted his head. 

“Putting what on the table?” 

“Ah, you know,” Fjord really didn’t. Molly exhaled and chuckled. Molly took a step forward, long legs taking him easily across the room. Fjord sat up a little straighter, hands clasping the back of the chair. Molly stopped about a foot away from him. “You know.” Molly gestured vaguely to himself, sweeping his hand from his chest down. Fjord’s knuckles went pale. 

“Oh.” If he had been as strong as he used to be, working on the boat, he was sure he might have broken the wood under his fingers. Fjord’s mouth was dry. Molly had his head tilted and an almost shy smile on his face, hands at his sides, palms out. 

“Just putting it on the table, no strings attached. Unless you want there to be.” Molly grinned and took a fraction of a step forward. Fjord released his grip on the chair and stood slowly. The sound of wood scraping made him cringe a little as he pushed the chair aside. Molly watched him, wide red eyes nearly unblinking. Fjord let out a heavy sigh. 

“Fuck it.” He surged forward, one hand going to the back of Mollymauk’s neck, the other tight on his hip, and he reveled in the little squeak the tiefling made before getting the message and meeting their lips. Molly’s hands balled their way into the front of Fjord’s shirt, but he was more focused on the lips moving under his own. Molly, for all his loud sharp exterior, kissed softly. He moved with Fjord, quelled his initial adrenaline to a soft drag against his chapped lips. Molly let that go on for a moment, sapping the energy out of Fjord until he was breathing slow, and Molly pulled away. He chuckled a bit as Fjord tried to chase his lips, a puff of air against Fjord’s chin. 

“Now,” Molly whispered against Fjord, hands unwinding themselves and settling on his waist. “You certainly have some spark.” Molly peppered a kiss against Fjord’s jaw, smiling against the smooth skin. Fjord huffed. 

“‘Been thinking about this for a long time.” He admits. Molly pulls away a bit, leaning back to get a look at his face. Fjord can feel the blush in his neck and cheeks. 

“Well, I’m  _ honored _ .” Molly leans in and kissed Fjord again, quickly going from soft to open mouthed, probing with his tongue. Fjord lets him in, unused to the feeling of tongue against his slowly growing tusks, but the rest of it, Molly eagerly exploring his mouth, withdrawing to bite at his lip, the hands starting to roam under the hem of his shirt and the sharp intake of breath from the tiefling when Fjord probes forward with his own tongue, that is all  _ quite _ welcome. Fjord has to admit it’s been a long time since he’s done this. There was no one in his last crew he was particularly close with or interested in, and the hookups he did have at various ports were few and short, barely pausing at this stage before clothes were shed. 

Though with the rate Molly’s breathing and the hands now flat against his sides, that might be the direction things are headed. Fjord moans a little and tears himself away, hands firm on Molly’s shoulders. Molly catches his breath, a lazy smile still painted across his face, hands wandering on their own to keep Fjord close to him, tickling his sides slightly. Fjord has to stop himself from leaning into the touch. 

“What do you-” Fjord has to pause to catch his breath, “want to do?” Fjord squeezes Molly’s shoulders. Molly’s hands still under his shirt. 

“You. Anything, fuck.” Molly pulls out of Fjord’s grip to capture his lips again. Fjord slides a hand into his hair, holds him close and kisses him until his brain feels light and fuzzy. He pulls away, gasps a few breaths and takes in Molly’s eyes, unreadable but his lids are slightly down and he has a senseless smile. 

“Okay.” Fjord manages to puff out the word before Molly is back in his space, lips meeting his briefly before making their way to his jaw, along the bone there and down to his neck. The angle is awkward, Molly being slightly shorter, but Fjord bends his neck to expose the skin more and let’s Molly nip a line down to his collarbone. He busies himself with his hands, moving them down from Molly’s head and shoulder to map his sides, the points of his elbows, the flesh of his hips where his shirt is riding up. And they’re doing this, so Fjord steels himself and slides a hand over Molly’s ass, which gains him a open mouthed groan against his chest, and Molly tilts his head up and kisses Fjord again. His hands are on Fjord’s chest under his shirt now, and Fjord decides there’s no point to the cloth anymore. He leans away from Mollymauk just long enough to pull the fabric off and discard it, and tug at Molly’s garment as well. It’s a little more complicated with his horns, but Molly laughs and unhooks the shirt, hair now a mess, and pulls Fjord to him again. Fjord melts under Molly, let’s him turn them and walk them backwards until Fjord’s thighs hit the bed, and Molly lets them fall, all with his mouth on Fjord’s. 

With the bed under him and Molly’s weight warm and heavy on his chest, Fjord’s brain is starting to think in gut reactions and muddled wants. Molly adjusts their legs, braces himself on his elbows and creates the tiniest amount of friction and Fjord lets himself moan, which earns him a chuckle against his lips and Molly repeats the motion, slowly dragging his crotch against Fjord’s. Fjord untangles his hand from the sheets and cards it through Molly’s hair, tentatively runs a hand along Molly’s horn and that earns  _ him _ a groan, so he explores the horn with his fingers, learns the bumps and ridges along it, and that Molly bucks his hips and falters in his kisses when Fjord touches it at the base where it meets his scalp. So Fjord does just that, other hand settling on Molly’s hip, bending a leg slightly so Molly’s movement’s press against him perfectly, and loses himself in it. 

There’s a line of heat from Fjord’s cheeks, through his neck and chest, down to his crotch. The rest of him feels cold, hand buried in Molly’s hair reveling in the heat the tiefling radiates. Fjord’s moving his hips to meet Molly now, and pants seem like a worse and worse idea with every passing moment. He communicates as much, giving a last rub to Molly’s horn and hooking both his thumbs into his leggings. Molly arches into the touch, wiggling a little to assist Fjord as he pulls them down. Molly kicks them off deftly, breaking away from Fjord’s mouth and kissing his way down his chest. He’s on his knees, the lack of friction making Fjord ache, but Molly’s clawed nails catch his nipples and draw pale lines down his chest, quickly followed by gentle kisses. Molly scoots down the bed and fumbles with Fjord’s pants, unlacing them after a moment and tugging. Fjord lifts his hips, helps discard the offending clothing, and then Molly is back on him, lips hovering over his own, knees on either side of his hips. Fjord wiggles, wanting and trying to arch upwards with his hips and lips, needing any sort of contact. Molly still though, looking down at Fjord as he catches his breath. Fjord takes him in, hair a mess, skin flushed a deep lavender, dick hard between his legs. Fjord sees himself in the same situation, flushed green. Molly has left a series of bruised marks along his sternum. 

The tiefling lets out a breath and drops his head to Fjord’s shoulder, kissing the curve where it meets his neck, suddenly soft. Fjord closes his eyes and drowns in it, the gentle lips against his skin, the ache between his legs, the man on top of him’s breath in time with his own. 

“I have to get my bag.” Molly says finally, seemingly satisfied with the marks he has eft on Fjord’s neck. Fjord shifts, freeing himself to glance across the room past their discarded clothes to the pack haphazardly left on the table. Molly groans as he stands, Fjord immediately hit with the cold at his absence. He props himself up a little to watch Molly cross the room, stark naked (Fjord commits that image to memory), tail swishing over his ass. There’s a soft snow falling outside the window, grey clouds heavy over the roofs of the nearby buildings. Molly rummages for a minute, giving Fjord time to push himself fully onto the bed, leaning his head on a pillow and lying on his side. Molly finds what he’s looking for, a small jar, and returns to the bed. He sets in on the pillow beside Fjord and hooks a leg over the half-orc. Fjord chokes on air at the sudden contact, Molly kneeling and straddling him, flush with Fjord. The tiefling closes his eyes for a moment, back straight, hands supporting himself on Fjord’s hips. Then he leans forward, catches Fjord already parted lips, and resumes their earlier pattern. Fjord appreciates the new angle, wraps his hands around Molly’s back and splays them over his shoulder blades, bucking his hips when Molly licks across his tusks and tugs on his bottom lip. Molly grins against him, grinding his hips down evilly slow. Fjord nearly cries out. He’s already painfully hard, thighs shaking a bit with the effort of keeping his hips from jerking, and Molly seems to read that because he moves a hand down from Fjord’s hips, drawing his own away and ghosting his fingers over Fjord, which does make Fjord moan, and Molly hushes him with a soft kiss, peppers a few kisses down his jaw, and sits up a little to grab the jar with his free hand. The one between Fjord’s legs settles at the base of his dick, drags upward and spreads the wetness leaking from the tip back down. Fjord manages to stay still, forcing even breaths. His eyes close, aware of Molly moving above him, and then there’s another warm hand on his dick, slick and immediately setting a rhythm, Molly’s other hand pressing Fjord’s hip down to keep him from fully matching the strokes.

Fjord snaps his eyes open, drinking in the image of Molly above him. The tiefling is sitting up on his knees, eyes focused on his hands and Fjord, own dick up against his stomach. Fjord  _ aches _ , pushing his hips up despite Molly’s grip. 

“Need something?” Molly meets Fjord’s eyes, slowing his hand and twisting teasingly. Fjord moans before finding his voice. 

“You, inside me.” Fjord breathes heavily. He dropped his accent, but Molly doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does he doesn’t care. Molly just chuckles, strokes Fjord a last time, and moves from straddling him to lying on his side, kissing Fjord’s lips as he lowers himself, keeping that contact as he pulls Fjord’s right leg up, snakes his oiled hand down, trailing gently down right where Fjord wants it. Fjord keens into the kiss as Molly presses at his hole, touch light, testing. Fjord bites at his lips in retaliation. He likes this, this soft Mollymauk who takes things slow and covers him in marks and kisses, but it’s also been a while since he’s gotten a chance to let go, since before he met any of the Mighty Nein, and he’s eager. Molly gets the message, withdrawing his hand to slick his fingers again and then pressing forward, a single finger pushing into Fjord, one joint at a time. Fjord breaths through it, adjusts his hips to make the angle easier on Molly’s hand, and moans as Molly withdraws the finger nearly all the way, then presses back in, all the way to the knuckle. Fjord yelps, which just makes Molly chuckle again and probe with his tongue. Fjord leans into it, bucking his hips involuntarily as Molly crooks his finger slightly, stretching and exploring what makes Fjord tick. He finds it quickly, a cycle of pumping his finger, stretching, withdrawing, and pressing into Fjord again. Fjord can feel Molly hard against his thigh, and moves that leg a little to create friction for Molly, which earns him a second finger and Molly throwing his head back, giving Fjord his first opportunity to kiss along Molly’s neck. It’s different with his tusks, he has to be careful not to bite to hard, but Molly just groans and moves his fingers faster when Fjord sucks a mark just under his ear. 

Fjord kisses every inch of skin he can reach, most of Molly’s neck and a bit of his shoulder. The skin is marred with scars, thin lines in every direction, and Fjord tries to kiss each one. They are slightly raised under his lips, and Molly’s skin is salty with sweat, and Fjord falters and muffles a moan in the crook of Molly’s neck when he adds a third finger. The discomfort quickly fades, Fjord’s thighs quaking in anticipation, and he just breaths into Mollymauk, aware of only the warmth and the motion between his legs, fingers pumping and spreading, Molly’s other hand on his thigh, holding his legs open. Fjord is lost in the sensation, loses track of time, hardly aware of his own breath. He only realizes he’s holding it when Molly moves, pulls himself out from beside Fjord to on top of him again. Fjord forces his eyes open, moans as the angle of the fingers inside him changes, sending sparks up his torso and into his dick. Molly hums at the sound, smiling with his eyes squinted. 

“You’re stunning.” Molly murmurs, adjusting himself to be between Fjord’s legs. Fjord is past words, instead arching his hips up, bending his legs and making a wanting noise. Molly gets the message, crooking his fingers a few more times and withdrawing them. He slicks himself with the contents of the jar, then pulls Fjord slightly forward, draws one of Fjord’s legs up and over his hip. He aligns himself and bends forward, hovering above Fjord. 

“This okay?” Molly asks, jewelry clinking together on his horns. Fjord groans and finds his voice amidst panting breaths. 

“Yes, please.” And that’s all Molly needs, pushing his hips forward achingly slowly, entering Fjord. Fjord isn’t sure what to call the noise he makes, but Molly cuts it off with a kiss, open mouthed and sloppy as his brain is busy with other things, the feeling of pressing into Fjord, the slow drag of pressure, and Fjord’s hands tight on his hips, increasing the pace he pushed forward just a hair. Molly listens to the touch, buries himself in Fjord and catches his breath. One of Fjord’s hands on his hip slides up his back, over his scars and neck, coming to tangle in his hair, fingers just touching the base of one of his horns. The other grips his hip, Fjord’s knuckles pale. Molly doesn’t mind the grip though, moving against it, pulling his hips back then just as slowly forward again. Fjord keens and arches, shaking as his dick drags against Molly’s stomach. 

Molly sets a slow pace, giving up on kissing Fjord to drop his forehead against the half-orcs, their breaths intermingling. Fjord tugs at Molly’s hair and loosens his grip on his hip to slide over his back, his ass, anywhere he can reach, anything he can do to encourage the calculated movements Molly makes. Eventually he speeds up, Fjord hooking a leg over Molly to align the angle so sparks shoot through him with every thrust and he’s sure his moaning is edging on too loud, but Molly is smiling into his shoulder, one hand wrapping around Fjord between them and moving in time with his thrusts, and it’s all Fjord needs to fall apart. He holds himself together as long as he can, but Molly’s thrusts speed up and begin to stutter, and one well angled snap of his hips sends Fjord tumbling, cumming across their stomachs, biting his lip to muffle the scream. Molly must follow within a few more seconds, because when Fjord regains sensation the man is pulling out of him, faltering and falling flat against his chest. Fjord breaths, smooths Molly’s hair and traces the line and bumps of his spine. Molly’s breath comes in puffs against his chest, slowing as the moments pass in blissful silence. 

“I like those cards.” Fjord says, mostly into the top of Molly’s head. Molly hums and chuckles, looking up. His hair falls into his face and he blows it out of his eyes. 

“They can offer some good advice, sometimes.” Molly smiles, resting his chin on Fjord’s chest and tracing a pattern across his shoulder. 

“You said something about there not having to be strings attached.” Fjord traces the eye tattoo on the back of Molly’s neck. 

“Mhmm...” Molly stiffens just a little. 

“I’d like it if there were. If this wasn’t a one time thing.” Fjord can feel the flush in his face returning, but quells his anxiety. He just had amazing sex, with a man he’s been falling for for weeks, he’s allowed to  _ ask.  _ Molly withdraws a little, sliding off Fjord onto the blankets next to him. 

“Sounds good to me.” Molly lays his head a few inches from Fjord’s on the pillow. Fjord’s heart pounds. 

“Okay.” He doesn’t know what to say, his head feels light and his thoughts are consumed by reveling in the places where their bodies touch, in the shivers still echoing through his legs. Molly laughs at that though, fumbles to draw the sheet out from under them and clean them with it. Fjord regains use of his muscles and sits himself up a bit, but Molly casts the cloth aside and leans back against Fjord’s chest, drawing the clean thicker blanket over both of them and draping one arm and leg over Fjord. Fjord shouldn’t be surprised. Mollymauk has little problem getting in other’s personal space, of course, he’s a cuddler. Fjord doesn’t mind, much the opposite. He pulls Molly close, places a kiss on his horn, unhooks the jewelry with a little bit of help from Molly, and settles in. The air outside is dropping to uncomfortably cold, but under blankets with a personal heater of a man makes up for their lack of clothes. Fjord doesn’t sleep, he’s not sure Molly does either, but they breath in time with each other, Fjord watching the snow build on the outside windowsill. Eventually, his stomach ruins it, giving a loud grumble that sends Molly into a fit of laughter. They peel away from each other, dress quickly in the cold, and Molly catches Fjord before they leave to find the others and food. He kisses him, again soft and gentle, hands wound around his shoulders. Fjord cups Molly’s face and kisses him back, smiling into it. 

They go downstairs shoulder to shoulder, Molly’s hand winding its way into his under the table as they meet the other’s, Jester loudly declaring what they will have for dinner. Molly rests his head on Molly’s shoulder, and they breathe in time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I said I would write the sequel to the caleb/molly thing I wrote a few weeks ago and instead I wrote this bc im impulsive and got inspired sorry charlie :P
> 
> As usual, let me know of any major spelling errors and kudos and comments are so so welcome !!


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